First Troubles
At the time of her marriage Elizabeth was said to be not only the
youngest but also the most beautiful Empress that had ever sat on the
throne of the Hapsburgs. Her figure was tall and slender, her hands and
feet small and well shaped, her features regular and delicate. She had a
charming smile, wonderfully expressive dark blue eyes, a beautiful
complexion, and a mass of waving chestnut hair that fell about her, when
loosened, like a veil, and which she wore either hanging in eight heavy
braids or wound like a coronet around her head. With no experience of
the world and full of the confidence of youth, she looked forward to her
married life as one long holiday. Crowned with love, all hearts should
bow before her and she would be the good genius of her people.
But disappointment followed close upon the heels of the first
intoxication. If the lower classes were charmed with their Empress, this
was far from being the case with an aristocracy that claims to be the
most exclusive in Europe, and there were many at court who felt that
neither by age nor rank was this daughter of a non-royal Duke fitted to
be their sovereign. Instead of being welcomed with open arms, therefore,
she encountered only a wall of opposition and intrigue. Far from being
the brilliant centre of homage and admiration, as she had dreamed, she
was grieved and mortified to find those about her anxious only to
deprive her of the honors and influence that were her due. It was most
unfortunate that she should have been placed so early in a position
requiring the utmost tact and knowledge without having had any training
to fit her for it,—a poor bird that had left the home nest before it had
learned to fly! In Bavaria she had been a happy, care-free child,
beloved by every one and so full of the joy of life that she seemed to
carry with her wherever she went a breath of those woods and mountains
she so dearly loved. A Wittelsbach by both lines of descent, she had
inherited the characteristics of the race, their pride and independence,
honesty and courage, to a striking degree. Even these virtues, however,
were but so many dangers, since they made it difficult for her to adapt
herself to the rules laid down by court life. Her very youth and
freshness were out of place at Schönbrunn and the Hofburg. Her ignorance
and inexperience, which were well known in Vienna, made it seem probable
that she would prove an easy tool at court, provided she were only
amused and flattered sufficiently. But this error was soon discovered.
With the peculiarities of her race she had also inherited their marked
mental gifts, and young as she was, her mind was quick to grasp whatever
interested her and to choose or reject with certainty.
Such a nature could not but rebel against the restraint and monotony of
court life. Its pomps and ceremonies wearied her from the first, and
little as she resembled Marie Antoinette in other ways, she hated
etiquette even more than did that unfortunate Queen. The court of
Vienna, which had lived by its conventional usages from time immemorial,
regarded as natural and necessary the forms that Elizabeth considered
ridiculous and childish. She once aroused a storm of indignation by
refusing to appear at the customary state breakfast, which consisted of
various hot dishes, and ordering some bread and sausage and a glass of
Munich beer to be brought to her in her own apartments. On another
occasion, when presiding at one of her first court ceremonials, she took
off her gloves, contrary to all custom and tradition. An elderly court
dame hastened to remind her of her mistake.
“Why should I not?” inquired the Empress.
“Because it is against the rules of etiquette,” was the answer.
“Then in future let it be proper to break the rule!” she declared.
No young husband could have been more devoted than Franz Joseph was to
the bride he had found for himself without the aid of ambassador or
envoy. “I am beloved as if I were a lieutenant, and as happy as a god!”
he wrote to a friend just after the wedding.
And Elizabeth did truly love him, but not as he did her. In spite of the
intensity of feeling that showed itself in after life, there was a
certain inborn coldness in her nature that made it impossible for her to
share his ardor or to understand him always. But it often taxed his
devotion and patience to reconcile this freedom-loving child of nature
to the restraints and obligations of her new position, and he was many
times called upon to make peace between the older court ladies and their
young mistress. He would gladly have loosened her bonds somewhat, but
dared not introduce new ways and customs.
The Archduchess Sophie had hitherto reigned supreme at court. She was a
remarkably clever woman, and all through the first difficult years of
her son’s reign had proved a valuable support to him, and acquired an
influence which she had no intention of surrendering into the hands of
her seventeen-year-old niece. Two women, though of the same blood, could
scarcely have been more different. The Archduchess was ambitious and
worldly; the Empress cared nothing for place or power. Sophie was
completely under the influence of the priesthood; Elizabeth worshipped
God in nature, but avoided all religious ceremonies and hated priests.
The older woman expected to find it easy to govern this child who had so
unexpectedly received the imperial crown, through her vanity and
inexperience, but finding herself mistaken, she resorted to other means.
Elizabeth, as we have seen, had come to Vienna full of hopes and dreams,
expecting naturally to occupy the first place in her husband’s life and
court; but every attempt to assert her right as Empress was deliberately
set aside by the Archduchess, who crushed her hopes and dispelled her
dreams with a cruel hand, regardless of her feelings.
As for the court, “Madame Mère,” as she was called, was a power whose
friendship it was prudent to possess. It was believed, moreover, that
Franz Joseph, whose fickleness and susceptibility in matters of the
heart were well known, would soon tire of his young wife. Elizabeth’s
inexperience made it impossible for her to battle successfully with
court intrigues, and it was plain that the mother-in-law would be
victorious in the struggle between them. The Emperor always treated his
wife with the greatest care and consideration, but misunderstandings
gradually arose between them, fostered by wounded pride on her side and
on his by the Archduchess Sophie’s constant efforts to lower her in the
eyes of her son. Dearly as she loved Franz Joseph, Elizabeth held
herself more and more aloof from him for fear of seeming the troublesome
child her mother-in-law called her, and an expression of quiet sadness
grew upon her. But there were moments, too, of hot revolt against the
cold, selfish world in which she lived, and these did not mend matters
for her. Rash and thoughtless, she struggled against this unceasing
persecution. She treated the Archduchess’ followers with marked disdain
and gave her confidence to others who deceived and betrayed her.